Teach a man to fish and you'll show him how to waste his life

Why do any of us fish?  Really digest that for a second.  You go out and spend hours on a body of water trying to insert a razor sharp hook into the mouth of a wild animal.  There is something primitive and basic about fishing, something that brings you back to an age when things were more simple.  Fishing is good for the soul; it tests one's patience, it tests one's focus and most of all it tests one's sanity.  For me fishing has always had more to do with spending time with family and friends than actually fishing.

When I think back to some of my fondest childhood memories, a windswept lake in Southern Alberta was often the setting.  My dad would take the entire family down to Keho lake where we would spend the entire day being eaten alive by insects, hooking into more weeds than fish and getting wind blasted for hours.  Those were some of the best days of my childhood.  We were there to spend time together as a family, catching the occasional fish was just a bonus.

Fishing was an opportunity to park life's many distractions.  We didn't have an Xbox, we didn't have cell phone reception.  What we did have were a tin of smelts, a few Red Devils and a handful of Banjo Minnows (My dad had a nasty habit of buying things from infomercials late at night...the Banjo Minnow was one of his more genius purchases).

As my younger brother and I got older, fishing became less and less of a priority.  We were both busy with our post secondary careers, and fishing unfortunately took a back seat.  My parents moved to the BC interior 7 years ago, and those childhood memories started to become distant adventures from long ago.  At one point I went nearly 5 years without ever getting a line in the water.

Two years ago I decided that I was ready to make a triumphant return to fishing.  My roommate Guide Dionne pestered me for a few years, and finally I caved.  This time was drastically different...this time I was going to be a fly fisherman.

Bass'n with Guide Dionne

Fly fishing was something foreign to me.  My childhood was spent casting big lures for pike or walleye; the subtleties of trout fishing was totally lost on me.  I feel as though fly fishing has given me an opportunity to truly reconnect.  The primitive and basic appeal of fishing is so much more apparent with a fly rod in your hand.  

The last two years of fishing have brought back a flood of memories of something that I left behind years ago.  The majority of my fishing has been weekend adventures with my buddies, but I have also had the privilege of creating new memories with my family.  

Pulling monsters from the ice with my brother

In the spring of 2014 my younger brother and I invited my dad out for a weekend of fishing at Keho Lake.  I was armed with my fly rod, my brother was armed with his Red Devil and my dad was armed with his tin of smelts.  We stayed in a dingy motel in Claresholm, and we would not have had it any other way (just stay away from the breakfast buffet).  The fishing was solid, but that hardly seemed important.  The memories that we shared that weekend greatly outweighed any monster spring pike.

This winter I have had the pleasure of taking my younger brother ice fishing a number of times.  He has no idea how to properly set a hook and still can't tie his own hooks, but we have a great time whenever we go (he is the Noob in case you were curious).  We aren't kids anymore, but when we are out on the water together those special memories come flooding back.

I think about the wonderful memories I have from my childhood, and I am so excited to build similar memories with my own children one day.  In a world that is continually becoming more complicated, I cannot wait to pass along my own version of escape to some young future Pinksters.

Summer float with my girlfriend.  She catches them, I unbutton them

Teach a man to fish and you'll show him how to waste his life.  I'm not sure I've seen a more false statement in my entire life.  Teach a man to fish and you will show him how to build a lifetime of memories.